


Enjoy the Show

by duskull



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Basically PWP, Blow Jobs, Exhibitionism, M/M, Vouyerism, wanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 09:01:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4913338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duskull/pseuds/duskull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Harry wanted to do was work on his stupid Potions' essay. He should have known the moment he saw Draco Malfoy in the library, alone, that any hope of doing something productive would fly out the window. But really, did he have to keep making those noises? They were incredibly distracting. It almost sounded like Malfoy was wanking. In the library. Right in front of him. But that was definitely just his imagination, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enjoy the Show

**Author's Note:**

> loosely based on real events

Really, this was all Neville’s fault. Everyone knew he was no expert at Potions (not without want for trying, however, that particular flaw was all Snape’s doing) but even Harry figured he could brew a simple vat of Amortentia with little threat of failure. Hell, they’d probably done the same exact thing no less than five times already, and yet, they could brew the same potion a hundred times and Neville would still find a way to muck it up regardless. It was almost impressive, actually. No one managed to get under Snape’s skin quite like Neville did. That is, not unless their name was Harry Potter. Still, at least Harry had managed to avoid screwing up a simple potion like Amortentia.

Really, if he’d just stirred _clockwise_ the potion would never have blown up in his face and, unfortunately, caught Snape’s cloak as he stalked past in his usual brooding fashion. Then Snape would have never rounded on him, ranting about lilies and “ _Clockwise_ , Longbottom, or do you not know which way a clock moves?” and Hermione would have never jumped to his defense, and Snape would have never assigned an entire essay on the importance of which direction to stir a potion, and Harry would have never gone to the library to study.

In his defense, he wasn’t expecting anyone else to be there. The savory scent of cooked meat and steamed potatoes still wafted up from the Great Hall, where Harry fully expected the rest of Hogwarts to be stuffing their faces.

When he strode into the library to find Draco Malfoy already there, he nearly dropped his books on his feet. Only Seeker-honed reflexes kept him from actually doing so, as he threw out a hand to catch the one book that toppled off the stack in his arms. Disaster soundly averted, he chanced a subtle glance at the mop of white-blonde hair, half expecting to find cold grey eyes mocking his stumble. What he found instead made his mouth run dry.

Grey eyes pinned him in place, but far from being cold they smoldered with a heat and hunger that had Harry’s robes feeling suddenly far too tight in the groin. Merlin, he was even grinning at Harry, all pleased and self-satisfied like a cat that caught the canary. For the barest of seconds, Harry _wanted_ to be the canary if it meant that Malfoy would keep looking at him like _that_ , but the moment passed with a shuddering exhale, and Malfoy was just Malfoy again, eyes disinterested and mouth slightly curved in a smirk.

“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” Harry breathed, studiously ignoring the roughness of his voice as he shifted, uncomfortable tightness still present in his trousers.

“The same thing you’ve come to do, I imagine,” Malfoy said.

Scoffing, Harry approached the table and slammed his books down with more force than was strictly necessary. “Bullshit. You’re great at potions, Malfoy, everyone knows that. What do _you_ need to study for?”

“Who said anything about studying?” Malfoy smirked, reclining in his chair and pulling his hands off the table to rest in his lap.

When he didn’t elaborate any further, and only continued to stare at Harry with that infuriating curl to his lips, Harry shot him his best glare and slid into the seat opposite him. If he really _was_ up to something, Harry wasn’t about to let him out of his sight. This way, he could watch the insufferable prat and still manage to get his stupid Potions essay done on time.

Satisfied with his plan, he pulled the first book off the stack and flipped it open, determined to get some work done even with Malfoy staring at him like that.

Ten minutes later, however, found him rereading the same line six times without taking a single word in. Across from him, Malfoy had yet to relent with the staring, and now to make matters worse he was making _noises_. Soft, breathy noises that had all the blood in his brain heading south. With a valiant effort, he managed to keep his eyes glued to the pages in front of him. Something about clockwise stirring affecting the way molecules break down. Interesting. Way more interesting than anything that Malfoy may or may not be doing.

Another noise, and god, Harry desperately wanted to look, to see just what Malfoy was doing to make him—oh Merlin that was definitely a moan this time.

Was Malfoy wanking? _No way_ , Harry thought, desperately shoving that line of thinking into the far recesses of his mind. Not even Malfoy was that shameless. And yet. . .

Another soft moan had his eyes snapping up to lock with grey ones, pupils blown wide and unmistakably fixed on his own, pinning him in place with such blatant hunger that Harry felt his cock twitch with interest not entirely against his will. It was no secret (at least to Hermione and Ron) that Harry found Malfoy attractive. But this, well, Harry never expected to witness this.

Malfoy’s cheeks were flushed a pretty red, lips parted just slightly as he panted. As he watched, transfixed, a smooth pink tongue darted out to trace along his bottom lip before retreating back into that mouth that Harry suddenly, desperately wanted to explore with his own. He wanted to reach across the table, grab him by his stupid, perfect hair, and snog him till he couldn’t breathe without tasting Harry on his lips.

He didn’t, though. Partly because he didn’t know how Malfoy might react, and partly because he wanted to see just how far Malfoy would be willing to take this. Instead, he dropped his gaze back to his book, hoping against hope that the blush he could feel spreading across his face and down his neck wasn’t as prominent as it felt. A flash of white teeth in his peripheral vision told him it was. Merlin, Malfoy was grinning at him. That bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

Squirming slightly in his seat, pants uncomfortably tight, Harry cleared his throat and flipped the page. Might as well pretend to be making progress. Hermione was going to kill him if he lost Gryffindor any more points, but how was he expected to focus when Malfoy was wanking right across from him?

Really, there was no point in denying it now. Harry could see the slight movement of his arm, secretly cursing the fact that Malfoy’s lower body, and whatever his hand was doing, was hidden from view. For a brief moment he considered asking Malfoy just what he thought he was doing in the sodding library of all places, but another breathy moan, louder this time, had his jaw snapping shut.

He must be getting close. By now Harry was painfully hard, and resisting the urge to slip a hand down to his aching erection was almost as hard as resisting the urge to watch Malfoy come apart.

Fingers digging so hard into the book before him that the pages were starting to tear, Harry sat and listened to the tempo of Malfoy’s breathing increase; listened to the way his gasps and moans turned guttural and desperate. When his climax finally hit, Harry couldn’t have kept his eyes away even if he were _Imperio_ ’d to.

Head thrown back, hair properly disheveled from his thrashing and sweat, chest heaving, Harry wouldn’t have doubted for a second if someone burst in the room at that second to tell him Malfoy was a Veela. That level of pure sexual appeal had to be unnatural.

Minutes passed in silence as Malfoy regained his breath and Harry focused on not coming in his pants like the teenager he was. There was a speck of white fluid on Malfoy’s robes, splashed against his chest. Harry was proud of himself for not hurling himself at Malfoy and fucking him raw at the sight.

At least it was over now. Distantly, Harry was surprised that Malfoy actually went through with the full thing right there in the library in front of him, but then, maybe that’s why Malfoy did it in the first place. Much more pressing, though, was the throbbing in his cock. There was simply no way an erection like this one was going to go away on its own, but short of doing exactly what Malfoy had just done, Harry had no options left to him.

“Enjoy the show, Potter?”

Harry choked, sputtering attractively for a solid ten seconds before he could chance a glance at Malfoy. He looked, well, like he’d just had a wank in a public library, slouched and relaxed in his seat with a lazy, satisfied grin turning up a corner of his mouth. When it became obvious that Harry’s brain had temporarily disconnected from his basic motor functions, Malfoy only grinned wider.

“Going to take care of that?” He nodded towards Harry’s lap, crossing his arms and somehow managing to look both disparaging and expectant at the same time.

Harry opened his mouth, fully intending to feign innocence with a “Take care of what?” when a sudden, delicious pressure pressed against his clothed cock, startling an embarrassingly loud moan from his lips instead. Malfoy’s foot pressed harder, dragging upwards and back down, and Harry’s legs spread further to give him better access, head falling backwards and eyes fluttering closed.

“No?” Malfoy asked, a note of _something_ in his voice that had Harry’s eyes opening a second before the pressure disappeared entirely.

It was a very near thing, but Harry managed to swallow the whine that crawled up his throat at the lack of stimulation. Leveling a glare at Malfoy, albeit one tempered by his raging arousal, Harry smothered the need in his voice as he demanded, “Why did you stop?”

Malfoy ran a hand through his hair, acting for all the world like this was a _normal_ thing for two people who hated each other to be doing.

“You didn’t answer me,” he said.

Harry blinked, blamed it on his erection and Malfoy’s wonderful foot that he forgot entirely what Malfoy had asked him. “Answer what?”

Malfoy sighed. “I _asked_ you, are you going to take care of that?” He nodded again at Harry’s lap, lifting an eyebrow.

Harry stared dumbly at the erection tenting his robes as he tried to parse through Malfoy’s question. “Are you going to help me with it?”

A feral grin spread across Malfoy’s face, and instead of answering with words he pressed his foot back against the seat of Harry’s trousers.

Arching into the pressure, Harry let his mouth drop open with a whispered _“fuck”_ , canting his hips until he was practically rutting into Malfoy’s foot. Pleasure spread through his body, warming his fact and his chest. He was barely aware of the sounds slipping past his lips, barely aware of anything at all besides the foot on his cock, until Malfoy spoke.

“Look at me,” he said.

Unable to resist that voice, tinged once more with arousal, Harry dropped his eyes from the ceiling to Malfoy’s own. His arm was moving rhythmically again, hand below the table, lips parted, and suddenly Harry had to see.

Standing with such force that his chair crashed to the ground behind him, Harry ignored the startled look on Malfoy’s face and dropped to his hands and knees, crawling beneath the table until he was kneeling between Malfoy’s legs.

His cock was perfect, standing erect again despite his previous orgasm and just the right size to have his mouth feeling pleasantly full if he were to swallow it down, and oh Merlin did he want to.

“Potter,” Malfoy whispered, sounding surprised and pleased and desperate.

Harry wanted to fuck him. Wanted to feel him clench around his cock and watch him arch and hear him scream with pleasure, but this time he wanted to taste that cock in his mouth.

Batting away the hand Malfoy still had wrapped around the base, Harry braced himself against Malfoy’s thighs and leaned forward, licking a strip up the underside of his cock, tracing a vein with his tongue that had Malfoy moaning louder than he had all evening. As he reached the tip, he flattened his tongue and laved it over the head, again and again until Malfoy’s hands were grasping his hair and salty fluid was leaking onto his tongue.

Humming with satisfaction, he opened his jaw and finally took Malfoy’s cock in his mouth. An aborted thrust and a litany of curses signaled Malfoy’s approval, long fingers tightening in his hair and tugging none-too-gently. Not that Harry minded, really. Not if the throbbing in his own cock was anything to go by.

Harry bobbed his head, taking down as much of Malfoy’s cock as he could before pulling back up to lick and suck at the head. When he pressed his tongue to the spot on the underside of his cock where head met shaft, Malfoy nearly keened, chanting “yes, yes, yes” like it was the only word he remembered.

There was one other word he wanted to hear spill from those reddened lips, however, and he pulled off completely to say so.

“My name,” he breathed. “Say it.”

“Potter,” Malfoy groaned, hips thrusting up, seeking the heat of his mouth again.

“Not that,” Harry said, licking a quick strip up the length of his cock.

“…Harry,” he gasped, name a whisper on his lips.

Smiling, he leaned down again. “Look at me,” he said, waiting until lust-blown grey eyes fixed on his own before swallowing his cock down again.

He didn’t break eye contact this time, not when Malfoy started thrusting up into his mouth, not when his breathing grew erratic, not when he gasped “fuck, Harry, I’m coming”, not when hot come shot down his throat, and not when he sat back and swallowed the rest, licking his lips.

The hardness in his own trousers was unbearable now, and as Malfoy closed his eyes and languished in his post-coital afterglow, he shoved his trousers and pants down and fisted his cock in his hand, groaning unabashedly at the relief and pleasure that swept through him.

His eyes fluttered closed, head tipped back till it bumped the underside of the table he still crouched beneath as he worked his hand desperately against his length. A swipe of his thumb over the head and he was gone, coming so hard he thought he might pass out.

When he finally came down again, he opened his eyes to find Malfoy watching him, smiling lazily.

“Enjoy the show, Malfoy?” he asked, a grin tugging his lips up.

“Very much, Potter. I’d ask for an encore but I don’t think either of us has it in them at the moment.”

Harry laughed, pulling out his wand to cast a quick Scourgify before tucking himself back in his pants and pulling his trousers up. Belatedly, he realized he was still sitting underneath a table. Crawling forward, he rose to a stand beside Malfoy, catching his face between his hands and pulling him in for a kiss as he went.

There was no fire behind the kiss now, sated as they were, but they took their time in exploring each other’s mouths with their tongues, tracing lips and moaning softly, content.

As they broke apart, Harry caught sight of the Potions book still laid out across the table.

“Why _did_ you come to the library, Malfoy?”

“I told you,” Malfoy waved a hand, looking almost embarrassed. “The same reason you did. Maybe I just knew you’d come up here, as abysmal as you are at Potions. And maybe, for whatever reason, I wanted to catch you alone.”

A slow grin spread across his face. Sure, it was no secret that Harry found Malfoy attractive, but maybe it wasn’t a secret that Malfoy found him attractive either. Maybe even something more than just attraction, but Harry didn’t want to dwell on that too much at the moment. They’d have plenty of time to figure that out later. Perhaps when Harry was fucking Malfoy into the mattress. Or Malfoy was fucking him into the mattress.

“I’m going to fail this essay now, and it’s all your fault, Malfoy.” Harry crossed his arms, feigning annoyance.

“Oh shut it, Potter,” Malfoy rolled his eyes. “As you said, I’m great at Potions. Bring your stuff over here and I’ll help you with the bloody essay.”

Grinning, Harry did as requested and sat beside Malfoy, alone at a table in the library while the rest of the school ate warm meals below them. Really, he should thank Neville. And maybe ask him to screw up the next vat of Amortentia too.


End file.
